Falling for Mr. Wrong (8 page)

“Damn it,” he breathed, pausing for a moment as he buried his face in her neck. “We can’t do this. How could we possibly—”

As if anticipating what he was going to say next, a sound came from the door, startling them both. The handle clicked as someone from the outside tried, unsuccessfully, to open it. Her heart leaping into her throat, Kelsey jerked from his embrace. She took a second to adjust her clothes before moving swiftly to unlock the door and open it. Julia stood at the threshold, her hair tousled, water bottle in hand.

“Why was the door locked?” she demanded.

Kelsey cocked her head, feigning confusion. She hoped like hell that her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt, or her breathing as loud. “What do you mean?” she gulped. “It wasn’t locked.”

“But it wouldn’t open,” Julia said.

“Maybe it was stuck,” she offered, glancing quickly at Ross before turning back to Julia. He had his back to them, and was adjusting—well,
something
. Hurriedly, she took the little girl’s hand and started to lead her out of the room toward the kitchen. “Did you want more water?”

“Daddy,” Julia called, coming to a halt just outside the door, “are you almost done with your work?”

Ross turned around. His eyes were glazed and his hair was rumpled and uneven, but when he spoke, his voice was light. “Sorry, pumpkin, not yet. But tomorrow I go see Mr. Herriot. After that I’ll have more time for you.”

“Okay,” she said, though she sounded skeptical. “I want to show you the park. And Kelsey said there’s a pool that we could go swimming at. She wants to take us tomorrow.”

Kelsey tugged, ever so gently, on her hand. “Julia, we should get out of your daddy’s hair. I’m sure he needs to work more.” She touched the cap of the water bottle. “Looks like you drank the whole thing. That’s really good, you know, to drink lots of water when it’s hot. Why don’t you run to the kitchen and refill your bottle. I’ll be there in a minute.”

She waited until Julia had disappeared before she allowed herself one last look at Ross. He rubbed the back of his neck.

“This is…um…hard,” he said.

“No kidding.” She laughed a little at the double entendre, forcing herself to sound calm even as her mind spun with frenetic energy. Hard? Try completely nuts. How in the world could they arrange for any kind of rendezvous? He had three kids.

Three. Kids
. And it wasn’t as if they could hire a babysitter—she
was
the babysitter.

“Kelsey!” Julia yelled from the kitchen. “Come quick! The water bottle is jammed in the fridge and water is getting all over the floor.”

“I guess I better go,” she said.

“I guess.” He continued to stare, not moving. She had the feeling he wanted to say something, but had no idea what.

Which made sense, because she felt exactly the same way.

Chapter Eight

“I appreciate your coming on such short notice, Ross.” Armand Herriot motioned toward the large screen on one end of the conference room. “Would you like to get started?” A massive conference table, with seating for twenty, sat in front of the screen. A laptop connected to a glowing projector had been set up in the middle of the table.

“Yes, that would be great, thanks.” Ross withdrew the jump drive from his pocket. He hadn’t been this nervous since his first big pitch to an investor ten years ago. He surveyed his host out of the corner of his eye as he plugged the drive into the laptop and waited for it to load. Armand looked more like a movie star than a hardened business mogul. Though Wikipedia had proclaimed him fifty-five, there was not a hint of gray in his short brown hair, and his body was lean and trim. His teeth sparkled white, and he wore a black T-shirt tucked into a pair of snug-fitting chinos. He had a long, handsome face with just a hint of cruelty about the eyes.

Ross hated him on sight.

This, of course, was not a helpful emotion. Herriot was his key to breaking into the Denver market. They didn’t have to become best friends.

“I’ll just take a seat,” Armand said, a polite smile on his face. “You can start up whenever you’re ready.”

The presentation opened with a series of slides of resorts in the popular ski towns of Aspen, Breckenridge, and Vail, several of which were owned by Armand. “As you are well aware,” Ross began, “Colorado’s mountains provide unparalleled beauty, and opportunities for resorts that cater to the world’s most discerning, high-end customers.” Ross cut to a map showing the general location of the property that Armand had identified for this project, which was near the western border of the state. “However, I believe the area you’ve identified will appeal to a different sort of clientele.”

The slide show changed to a series of pictures of families, young children, and large gatherings. “In today’s tough economic times, families want to spend quality time together in a setting that caters to their needs, without breaking their budgets. We can provide that.” He flipped through pictures of people riding on horseback, couples getting massages, and families hiking on trails through the forests. “My concept has all the traditional amenities of a Western resort but we would target working families, not the sort of upper-end clientele that you’ve worked with in the past. While those markets have the potential for high profit margins, I believe we will find greater long-term potential and community support with this family-oriented model.”

He spared a quick look at Armand. The older businessman had pulled his sunglasses from his shirt and was twirling them between two fingers. He looked thoughtful, but not negative. Ross decided to take that as a good thing. He advanced to the composite image that his design team back in New York had put together and paused. The central lodge was a beautiful soaring building with huge banks of windows along the front and back. Solar panels dominated one side of the roof, while a small fleet of bikes was parked out in front. Smaller cabins dotted the landscape behind it, joined by a meandering bike path.

“This is our rendering of the property. I have a number of additional slides with more details about the resort and my financials, but I thought I’d stop here and see what you think about the concept.”

Armand nodded slowly. He squinted at the screen, expression inscrutable. Ross’s heart thudded. It would be an exaggeration to say that everything rode on Herriot’s decision. Ross could try to head out on his own, but he knew how hard it was to start up a new business, especially in the current market. Getting Herriot on his side would be the difference between taking off like a rocket and pushing a stone uphill.

“An interesting idea,” Herriot finally said. “I mean, I hate it, but it’s precisely the sort of nonsense I expected you might dream up.”

Ross blinked, hoping he’d misheard. “Excuse me?”

“All that affordable family bullshit.” Herriot waved dismissively. “It’s a load of crap. Kids are expensive. Parents want discounts—they don’t want to pay for extras. Unless they’re wealthy, guilt-ridden, and ready to buy anything to satisfy the whims of little Jonny and Jane, I don’t want them anywhere near my properties.” He smiled, revealing ultra-white, Hollywood-straight teeth.

A heavy weight settled into Ross’s stomach. He’d known that his family concept was a risk. It was completely different from Herriot’s other investments, which never boded well. But after looking at the site and studying the market, he felt it was the only way he could make the property a success. “I disagree about the finances,” he said. “On the other hand, if you aren’t interested in the concept, maybe we could tweak—”

Herriot cut him off with a raised hand. “Oh, there’s no tweaking that would save this. I’m not running a nonprofit. If we’re doing families, we’re doing high-end, Club Med families. There’s a market
there
. A market that would actually pay.”

Ross gritted his teeth. He knew he’d hated Herriot from the beginning. This just confirmed it. “With all due respect, this
is
a business. It might not have the cachet of a five-star resort, but there’s a need for this kind of service, and if we make it sustainable and community-oriented, I think we will have an easier time working with local landowners and getting permits from the state land-use board.”

Herriot snorted. “Trying to re-create Hollyhock Manor?”

Ross had wondered how long it would be before Herriot brought up Hollyhock. Hollyhock Manor was an affordable housing development designed and built by Ross and his team, which had had the misfortune of opening right at the height of the market crash. Many of the families it housed had lost their jobs when the plastics manufacturing plant in town closed, and at one point, almost 50 percent of the homeowners were facing foreclosure. Ross hadn’t been able to stomach the news that so many of the families there were poised to lose their homes, so he’d stepped in and personally financed a huge buyout.

When he responded, it was with a weary familiarity. “Last year, Hollyhock homes saw twenty percent increases in value. We gambled on helping the homeowners by buying out their mortgages and refinancing the debt and it worked. No one ended up in foreclosure and the neighborhood has improved every year. Crime is down and everyone is making their payments. We could do much worse than to re-create Hollyhock.”

Now that housing values were growing so fast, Hollyhock looked like a great investment. But for years, he’d been justifying what everyone called an enormous mistake. Investors wanted quick returns, not the long process of working with families and building communities. His accountants and senior managers knew that the deal had stretched company finances to the breaking point. Even Jenna had worried that they might lose everything.

For him, it had simply been the right thing to do.

“I’m not interested in arguing about the details of your charity operations.” Herriot pointed to the screen. “Go back to the map of the property.”

Ross obliged, though he wondered what the man had in mind. Why, if he truly hated Ross’s idea, was he bothering to continue? “Yes?”

Herriot pulled a laser pointer from his pocket. He held it out and a tiny red dot appeared on the screen, tracing the property boundary Ross had highlighted on the map. “As you know, this is the area I’m targeting for the resort. I’ve got interest from all of these landowners in selling. The problem is here.” He stopped the pointer in the center of the highlighted area. “There’s a hundred-acre parcel right about here that I haven’t mentioned. It’s owned by a man named Harvey Stagefeather. I’ve met with him—or tried to meet with him—twice. He refused both times to talk to me about selling. Without his land, the rest of the property is worthless.”

Ross squinted, confused. “What do you mean, refused?”

“I believe his exact words were, ‘It will be a cold day in hell before I sign anything over to you.’”

“Why are you bothering to pursue the idea if he won’t sell?”

“You’re the hero of Hollyhock Manor.” Herriot grinned, exposing those blindingly white teeth in a feral grin. “I think he’ll sell it to you.”

Chapter Nine

Kelsey lifted a lid and stirred the contents of the small saucepan. A thick, lumpy mass of white goo congealed on the surface of the spoon, defying all attempts to shake or whack it loose. After a moment of hesitation, she used her finger to send the mass back into the pot. Then, under the watchful eyes of the children, she forced herself to lick her finger clean.

“Is it ready?” Matt asked, leaning forward in a hopeful manner.

“Yep.” Kelsey steeled herself not to shudder at the taste. “Why don’t you check the bread and see if it’s done.”

Matt opened the oven door and gazed inside. “Um, I think so? It’s a little black on top. Is that okay?”

Luke rolled his eyes. He was leaning against the center island in the kitchen, looking every bit the cynical teenager despite being only eleven years of age. “It looks horrible. I don’t know why you tried to make Alfredo.”

“Because it’s Daddy’s favorite,” Julia offered, from her seat at the island. “Remember? He always used to order it from Alessandro’s. And today was his big presentation. So we made it to celebrate.”

“Yeah, I know
that
,” Luke replied. “I’m just saying it was a stupid idea. Besides, if Dad really liked Alessandro’s Alfredo so much, we could have stayed in New York and had it whenever we wanted.”

Pushing aside a stray piece of hair with the back of her hand, Kelsey grabbed an oven mitt and pulled the long baguette from the oven. Unfortunately, Luke did have a point. The bread was black on top, and when she pulled it apart, chunks of poorly-chopped garlic sat poised like exposed land mines, just waiting for the unsuspecting to take a bite.

When she’d suggested cooking Ross a treat to celebrate his big presentation, she’d expected the kids to pick chocolate chip cookies or cake. It had therefore been a big surprise when Matt suggested they make a pasta Alfredo dinner. All three kids had agreed that it was his favorite meal, so, hiding her hesitation with a brave smile, Kelsey had picked out the easiest recipe she could find. Still, given the age and skill level of the chefs—herself included—even easy had proven challenging.

Carefully, she set down the bread and turned to examine the pasta, which was sitting in a colander in the sink. To her horror, what had once been a pot of nice firm strands of spaghetti had become a solid, pasta-shaped rock.

“Hmm.” She nibbled on her lower lip. Cooking had seemed like a good afternoon activity to keep the kids occupied, something they could all participate in equally, and it had been fun, as long as she managed to tune out Luke’s complaints and focus on the entertainment of grating cheese and measuring milk and butter. But now came the tough question of what to do with their creation, and whether they should take the final step of actually consuming it.

“Maybe some oil would loosen it up,” she offered, half to herself, half to the kids.

“Oh, that’s going to taste fantastic,” Luke drawled.

Through gritted teeth, Kelsey said, “That’s it, Luke. One more nasty comment and you’re headed to your room.”

“Fine,” Luke snarled back. “I’m going there anyway.”

He turned and marched up the stairs. Kelsey sighed. Despite all her efforts, at the end of day five, other than a few reluctant smiles and halfhearted laughs scattered throughout the day, he was just as bitter as he had been the day they met.

It was hard to believe that she’d spent a full week with the Bencher kids. Even harder to believe that she hadn’t made a total mess out of it, and had actually sort of enjoyed it. Marie was thrilled. She thought she’d finally found a way to bring Kelsey into her nannying empire. Buoyed by her success, she’d pressured Kelsey into learning to change Oscar’s diaper, and she’d been minimally successful. At least, Kelsey hadn’t passed out or vomited, which at the time seemed like a significant victory.

As if reading her thoughts, Julia shifted in her seat and frowned. “Kelsey, I don’t want you to leave.”

“You’ll have fun with Hope,” she said, as she had several times already that day. “Besides, I’m going to come back Monday, as long as it’s okay with your dad.”

“Promise?”

“I can’t really promise without talking to your dad,” Kelsey said. “But I can say this—if I don’t see you Monday, I’ll make sure to come back later in the week. I won’t go without saying good-bye.”

“Good,” Julia said, her fixed gaze promising that she’d make sure Kelsey kept her word. “Where
is
Daddy?” Julia asked, restlessly switching topics. “Shouldn’t he be home by now?”

The clock on the microwave read six fifteen. The presentation had been that morning and the kids had been impatiently awaiting Ross’s return for hours. Hopefully his failure to arrive home was a good sign, and not a bad one.

Kelsey heard the rumble of the garage door opening. She smiled with relief. “Listen, that’s him now. Let’s make him a plate.”

Julia’s eyes widened with excitement. Matt broke off one end of the bread in an explosion of crumbs and blackened crust. “Should I scrape off the burned parts?” he asked, brushing bits of charred bread off the counter onto the floor.

“No time,” Kelsey said. “Just go with it. It looks great.”

She grabbed a fork and cut off a section of the pasta and added a glob of sauce on top, sending up a silent prayer that she didn’t either poison her boss or go straight to hell for lying to the children.

“Quick,” Julia said, jumping off the stool and running around to the refrigerator. She yanked on the door and pulled out a beer. “Give him one of these, too.”

Kelsey stifled a smile. “Great idea.”

Carefully, she set the bread on the corner of the plate. Then she twisted off the bottle cap and handed the beer back to Julia. “It’s perfect,” she said, her voice a loud stage whisper.

Matt and Julia beamed. The back hall door, which opened into the garage, creaked, then swung wide.

“Daddy,” Julia squealed and ran down the hall.

“Give me a second,” Ross’s deep voice rumbled.

Kelsey steeled herself to look at him. When he came into view, he had a laptop case over one shoulder and a bag of groceries tucked under his arm. Kelsey knew instantly that something was wrong.

“Look, we made dinner,” Matt said, holding up the plate. “Alfredo.”

Ross set down the bag on the counter and looked over at his son. With his crisp white shirt, tie, and dress pants, he was every inch the successful businessman. But his shoulders drooped as if a heavy weight had been set upon them, and dark shadows shaded his eyes. With obvious effort, he smiled. “Hey, no kidding. That’s my favorite.”

Julia held out the beer. “You probably want one of these,” she said, nodding wisely.

“You have no idea,” he agreed, tipping it back and taking a long drink. “Where’s Luke?”

“Upstairs being a jerk,” Matt said.

“Matt, language,” Ross warned.

Matt shrugged. “What? It’s true.”

Ross shook his head. Kelsey had the feeling he didn’t have the energy to fight about it. “Try to have some sympathy,” he said. “Luke’s having a hard time with the move.”

Matt rolled his eyes. “I’ll say.”

“You haven’t tried your dinner,” Julia said, jumping up and down. “You have to eat it.”

Ross rumpled her hair. “I will, pumpkin, I promise. I just need to change my shirt first. Alfredo can be messy, if I remember right. And I don’t want to hold anything back.”

“Matt, I think we left the downstairs a mess,” Kelsey said, hoping to create some interference for Ross. “If you get started on cleaning, I’ll come down and help. Julia, you need to put away your puzzle. I bet by the time you get the basement cleaned up, your dad will be ready for dinner.”

“But I want him to eat it now,” Julia whined. “I don’t want to clean up.”

“Do what Kelsey says,” Ross ordered. “I’ll come down after I get changed.”

The children reluctantly headed toward the basement. Ross took another swallow of beer.

“Meeting didn’t go well?” Kelsey said softly, as soon as Matt and Julia were out of earshot.

“Oh, he offered me the contract,” Ross said. He continued staring in the direction the kids had just gone.

She paused. “And that’s not good?”

“Long story.” He blew out a breath, then gave a short, cynical laugh. “Or a short one, I guess. I tried to dance with the devil and got burned.”

“Herriot being the devil?”

“Of course.”

She didn’t know a thing about construction, or whatever it was Ross did, exactly, but she couldn’t imagine any better role for Armand Herriot than the devil. “I’m sorry.” She hesitated, then said, “Do you want me to stay for a little while? The kids have been bugging me to watch the movie
Shrek
. We spent most of the day at the pool and didn’t get to see it.”

She wanted so much to touch him. To find some way to comfort him. She watched as he drank the rest of the bottle. He didn’t respond to her question, but continued staring down the hall, rubbing his chin lightly with one hand.

“You know,” he said finally, “that would be great.”

…

“Say good-bye to Kelsey and then head upstairs,” Ross told Matt. “Remember, it’s her last day.” He’d just carried a sleepy Julia to her bed and turned out the lights. Thankfully, the memory of the grim events of the day had been dulled by a couple of hours of cartoon donkeys and ogres, some truly awful Alfredo, several beers, and the close proximity of Kelsey on the couch beside him while they watched the movie.

He didn’t want to think about what her replacement as nanny meant for the two of them. There was only so much a man’s brain could handle at one time, and he’d reached his limit at about 10:00 a.m. that morning.

“But…” Matt glanced over at Kelsey. “Didn’t you tell him about the climbing wall?”

She grimaced. “You were supposed to let me ask him about that,” she said, shooting him a guilty look.

“Oops.” Matt didn’t look the least bit repentant. “Sorry.” He ran over and gave Kelsey one of his trademark tackle-hugs, and then skipped up the stairs and disappeared from view.

“Climbing wall?” Ross raised one tired brow. He had been wondering how long it would be before Kelsey suggested something along those lines.

“It’s totally safe,” she said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “It’s a popular place with tons of kids and safety instructors. There are foam mats on the ground, and special climbs for the kids that aren’t too difficult. They’re never more than twelve feet off the ground and—”

He raised a hand to stop her. “I thought Hope was coming on Monday.”

“She was—or can be, if you want. But I didn’t get to take the kids climbing this week so I talked to Hope about it and she said if it’s okay with you, I can come back Monday and take the kids there. She isn’t into it herself, and Marie can get her a one-day temp job and have her start Tuesday. Matt was really excited about it and I didn’t want to disappoint him.”

He didn’t have the energy to fight about climbing walls, or anything else Kelsey might have planned. “That’s nice of you. I’m sure Matt is thrilled. It’s fine with me as long as everyone does whatever safety checks they require and it doesn’t mess things up for Hope for the rest of the summer.”

“Wow,” she said. “You really must be in a bad mood. I thought you’d never agree to that.”

He tried for a smile, but it fell away. Kelsey picked up her bag and started toward the door. He thought about letting her go, but knew he couldn’t. She was slipping on her shoes as he approached from behind. Her T-shirt was cool under his fingers. His thumb found the skin of her neck and she froze.

“Ross…” Her voice trailed away.

He touched her neck with his mouth. “Can you stay?” he asked. “Just a little bit longer?”

Her body was still. He felt her heartbeat under her skin.

“Yes.”

She turned around slowly, and the kiss was as necessary as it was inevitable. Their bodies seemed to fall into each other as though they’d never been apart. For the first time that day, he forgot everything.

After a long moment, she pulled away. “You need to check on Matt,” she said.

He nodded. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

…

Ross waited until the kids were asleep before he went back downstairs. Kelsey must have exhausted them at the pool, because even Luke didn’t protest when he turned off the lights and closed the door, and within a few minutes, he was snoring away.

He found Kelsey in the kitchen, sitting on one of the barstools by the center island. She was reading a magazine and swinging one long leg underneath her, in a strangely enticing, unselfconscious motion.

Would there come a time when he didn’t look at her and feel her fresh, pure sensuality like a punch to his gut?

“Would you like a glass of wine?” he asked, walking over to the cupboard and taking out a bottle of merlot. “I think I need one.”

“Sure. Thanks.”

Part of him wanted to make love to her that instant, but another part wanted to stop and enjoy what felt like a stolen, secret moment. He opened the bottle while she watched, her eyes dark and soft.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” she said. “But you can.”

It took only a moment under that strangely understanding gaze for the interview with Herriot to come flooding back. Words threatened to spill out in a jumble of confusion and frustration. He’d needed to talk to someone about it all day, but there was no one he could call. Though they had tried to be supportive, no one in his family had ever really understood why he and Jenna had made the decision to come to Colorado in the first place. The last thing he wanted was to give them a chance to say “I told you so.” He had friends back in New York, but they didn’t want to get a self-pitying call from him, complaining about how hard things were out in Colorado.